The Ace
by RogerMcClane
Summary: AU. Luke manages to join the Imperial Flight Academy, beginning his journey from a Tatooinian rookie, to the greatest pilot the Imperial Navy has ever seen. Oh, and there's a coup d'état somewhere in there too, but really, who cares about politics?
1. Chapter 1: Empire Day

**DISCLAIMER: STAR WARS, THE CHARACTERS OF, AND ALL OTHER RELATED SUBJECTS AND MEDIA ARE THE PROPERTY OF LUCAS ARTS AND THE WALT DISNEY CORPORATION. THE ONLY THING I OWN IS THE SCENARIO. PLEASE DON'T SUE ME. THANK YOU.**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** SO, _ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE EMPIRE_ HAS KIND OF DIED. I TRIED TO KEEP WRITING, BUT WHEN THE WELL IS DRY, THE WELL IS DRY. BUT, I HAVE THIS AT LEAST. AIN'T THAT GRAND? ANYWAY, THIS ISN'T NEARLY AS AU AS THE LAST ONE. THOUGH IT DOES INCLUDE SOME CERTAINLY DIFFERENT SITUATIONS. I.E.: STARKILLER, VADER'S COU-OOPS! ALMOST GAVE AWAY SOME MAJOR ANSWERS. CAN'T BE DOING THAT, CAN I? ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE STORY. I CERTAINLY HAD TO POUR SOME WORK INTO IT. REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME. ANYWHO, HAVE FUN!

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Chapter 1: Empire Day

* * *

TATOOINE, 9 BBY…

Anchorhead was often a very boring place. The small town was already out of the way, not to say that there was anything on the planet wasn't out of the way, but the people who came through there were just as boring as the town. Mostly just other moisture farmers, and a few other merchants. Not even the Hutt really bothered with the place, as there was no one there whose assets warranted the credit for any kind of reliable loans. The most interesting thing in town was the garrison of Imperial Stormtroopers in the middle of the town, which had been established in response to the intense concentration of attacks on the farming lands by Raiders.

At only ten standard years, Luke Skywalker was too young to help his uncle, Owen Lars, run the family moisture farm. But, being the pecuniary man he was, Owen was determined that the boy would contribute to the family income one way or another. This is how to work at a small cantina in Anchorhead. The owner and bartender of the place, Lux Dunstrom, was a friend of his uncle's, and after some discussion, Owen had gotten him to let Luke work as an assistant there until he was old enough to start working the vaporators. The deal hadn't been quite as lucrative as Owen had hoped, with the end agreement being that Luke's only pay would come from any tips he collected. It wasn't much, but Owen took it all the same. After all, even when in small amounts, money wasn't an easy thing to come by in Anchorhead.

Luke picked up on the waiting business fairly quick, and he took to it with relative enthusiasm. It certainly wasn't his dream job, but it definitely beat moisture farming. The clientele were fairly interesting, in stark contrast to the surrounding town, but this was attributable to the fact that a good 95 percent of their customers were Stormtroopers from the outpost that was located directly across the street from the cantina. Since Imperial Army rations were enough to turn a womp rat ill, the cantina's proximity and relatively low prices made it a hot spot for Stormtroopers to have a good meal when they had the time. They weren't as mean as Uncle Owen had made them out to be. As long as you got their order down right, and got their meal to them with relative expedience, they were pretty cool. As a matter of fact, Luke had almost become a kind of acquaintance to those who were regulars at the restaurant. This was helpful, as while the Stormtroopers weren't cruel, they certainly weren't ones for leaving tips.

It was about six months into his work his work there, and business had been quite slow that day. It was then that a rather abnormal trooper walked into the cantina. Unlike his compatriots, the armor he wore was black, rather than the standard imperial white. He took a seat by the window, and placed his helmet on the table. Luke grabbed a holopad with the menu on it before making his way over to this most recent customer.

"Good afternoon, sir." Luke said, handing the menu to the black-clad trooper.

The soldier stared at him for a minute or two, looking the boy up and down.

"Kid, shouldn't you be in school?" He asked.

"It's not too common for anyone to be in school around here." Luke replied, "When you're pretty much condemned to a set career the moment you're born, there's not a whole lot of need for an education."

"I see." Said the soldier, "So I take it you're my waiter?"

"Yes sir, I am." Luke said, perking up in pride.

"Well if that's the case, then I'd better order." The trooper joked, pulling a small giggle out of Luke.

"I suppose so." Luke replied.

"So, I hear the Bantha Burgers here are pretty good." The trooper said.

"Yes sir, the best in town." Luke said.

"Then I think I'll have one of those." The trooper said.

"Alrighty, sir. So, a Bantha Burger." Luke said as he jotted the order down, "And how would you like that done?"

"Medium." The soldier replied.

"So a Bantha Burger, cooked medium, and what would you like to drink with that?" Luke asked.

"I'll take the Blue Milkshake." The trooper replied.

Luke put the order, "So a medium Bantha Burger and a Blue Milkshake?"

"That's right." The soldier replied.

Luke pressed the send button on the holopad, and the order was sent back to Lux in the kitchen. The boy turned to go, but the trooper stopped him.

"Say, I don't see any other customers here." The man said.

"Well thanks." Luke said, rolling his eyes.

"No, I don't mean it like that." The soldier explained, "Now I happen to be here all by myself, as you can see, and you seem like you're not a half bad conversationalist. So why not stay and chat a minute."

The proposition took Luke by surprise. A Stormtrooper wanted to talk to him? And not because he had done something wrong? It was certainly odd. On second thought, Aunt Beru had warned him that there were some creepy bad men out there, and that if he were to meet one, he should run. Was this one of those times? But then again, the guy was a Stormtrooper, if he wanted to do something bad, he could just do it outright. He decided it was in his best interests to take the man up on his offer. He cautiously slid into the booth across from the soldier.

"So do your parents own this place, or what?" He asked.

"No." Luke said, "I'm just a paid assistant. The owner is a friend of my uncle, and my uncle talked him into him into letting me work here."

"How old are you, kid?" The soldier asked.

"Ten" Luke said, "Ten standard."

"Damn. Ten years old and already working. How much they paying you?" The man asked.

"Technically nothing." Luke replied, "I work for tips only."

The two sat there quiet for a minute.

"I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous, sir, but can I ask you a question?" Luke asked.

"Sure." The soldier replied.

"All the Stormtroopers that come in here have white armor, but you don't. Why?" asked Luke.

"Well for one, I'm not a Stormtrooper." The soldier replied.

"You're not?" Luke asked, confused.

"No, I'm a TIE Pilot." The man explained.

Luke eyes lit up upon hearing the last bit. Excitement filled him, and a million new questions came to his mind.

"Really?" Luke asked, amazed.

"Yeah, really." Said the pilot.

"That's so cool!" Luke said, almost shouting, "What's it like?"

"Well its certainly as interesting job," The pilot said, "You meet lots of new people, see lots of different places."

Luke's jaw was almost on the table from his open smile.

"Wow." He said, "How many different planets have you been to?"

"Oh, I couldn't remember if I tried." Said the Pilot, "But I can tell you that I've been to allot of them."

A buzzer went off over by the kitchen. A meal sat under the incubator. Luke got up from the table, and rushed over to grab it. He carefully transferred the food and drink onto a tray and brought it back to the pilot.

"Well, here's your meal, sir." Luke said, placing the plate and cup in front of their most interesting customer.

"Thanks, kid." The pilot replied.

"Being a pilot sounds so cool." Luke said, "I've always wanted to be one of those, you know."

This interested the pilot, "Really, now?" he asked.

"Oh, yes sir. Ever since I could remember." Luke explained, "I've got at least ten different models, and a dozen different manuals…I've never actually seen a real one though."

"Well that's a shame." The pilot said, "You know this gives me an idea."

"It does?" Luke asked, not understanding the man.

"Yep. How about, after I'm done eating here, we run over to the hanger, and I show you a real one."

"Wow, you'd do that!?" asked Luke.

"Sure. After all, for I know, you could be working there sometime soon." The pilot said.

"That would be so-Oh, wait." Luke said, becoming very disappointed, "I can't go, I gotta work."

"No you don't. The street's been closed because the governor's visiting the outpost." The pilot explained. "You won't be getting any more customers today."

"Oh." Luke said, the smile returning to his face.

"You know, kid." The pilot said, "I never got your name."

"My name?" Luke asked, the gears of his mind steaming in secret. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru had told him not to tell any of the imperials his last name. But this one was nice. But his aunt and uncle had been really urgent about it. Perhaps he could just get away with no telling him.

"Yeah, your name. You know, whatever it is people call you."

"Luke, sir." Luke stammered out.

"Well, Luke, I'm Lieutenant Garret Pax, and it's nice to make your acquaintance" The pilot said, laughing a little. "Though it's probably bets if you just continued to call me 'sir'"

"Yes, sir." Luke replied.

Lieutenant Pax finished his meal, and headed for the door.

"Well, kid?" he asked, "Aren't you coming?"

Luke slapped himself on the forehead, jumped out of his seat, and ran after his new friend.

' _This is going to be so cool.'_ Luke thought, as they made their way over to the hangar.

* * *

3 YEARS LATER…

Luke loved the Empire Day, mostly for the big show they held in town. Most people didn't. Aunt Beru called it brainwashing. Uncle Owen called it bantha shit. Both were assertions with which Luke's best friend, Biggs Darklighter, heartily agreed. None of that mattered to him though, and Luke continued on loving it just the same.

Attendance was mandatory, of course. There were census officers who marked a list of all those who showed up to the annual event, supposedly so those who kept up a good record of attendance could be rewarded. No one believed it though, not even Luke. The real reason, as everyone and their brother knew, was to locate and punish those individuals that did not attend. Failure to appear at the celebration was usually deemed as behavior threatening to the Empire, so those who did so were often never seen or heard of again.

Things hadn't always been so tight though. This never would have happened five years earlier. Empire Day wasn't even celebrated then. But the governor's visit to the town had changed allot of things. When the governor had gotten to Anchorhead, she was appalled by the lack of imperial involvement or control. The officials who had previously been in charge of the small farm town were arrested and disposed of. Child labor was illegalized, effectively putting Luke out of a job, and upsetting Uncle Owen very, very much. Imperial-curriculum schooling was made compulsory for all children of the district, a decision that all the children were disgruntled by. Lastly, an Imperial Auditorium was built near the middle of town, a block or two away from the already existing outpost. It wasn't a nice building. It was a tall box-like building, with a dome atop of it. Made entirely of dull, lifeless, depressing grey concrete, the eyesore towered above any other building in town, save the outpost. It was odd, the amount of attention the Empire had given their small town. Well, maybe not that odd. Save for passers-through, Anchorhead's population was entirely human, and the Empire did have a policy of human-supremacy. Therefore, on a planet where humans actually tended to be a minority, Anchorhead was like a diamond long hidden in the rough as far as the Imperial Tatooinian government was concerned. Ever since discovering the town's racial purity, it had become the crown jewel of desert planet. Hence the expense of building an entire auditorium, and the intense pressure on the indoctrination of the town's youth into the Imperial mind-set.

Currently, The Lars family was waiting in the line to get through the door. By the door, there was a table where two officers sat. They were the census officers, in charge of getting the identification of all the citizens in attendance. As each person approached the table, they handed over their papers. The officers would look them over, and search for any irregularities. If there were any to be found, four Stormtroopers stood nearby, and the citizen would be taken for questioning.

Owen was the first to come to the table.

"Name?" The officer sternly asked.

"Owen Lars." Owen answered.

"Papers." The officer said.

Owen took his identification papers out of his pocket, and unfolded them. He handed the papers to the officer, and the officer looked them over. His eyes wandered over the documents. He looked up to Owen, the back to the papers, then back up to Owen. The officer handed the papers back.

"You're clear. Move along." He ordered.

Beru shuffled up after Owen passed through.

"Name?" asked the officer.

"Beru Lars." She answered.

"Papers." He said.

Beru handed him the papers which she had been holding delicately in her hands. He looked them over, then looked back to her, and back, and so forth. He cleared her and she moved along.

Luke was the last to approach.

"Name?" The officer asked.

"Luke Skywalker." Luke answered.

The officer twitched a little, "Papers please?"

Luke handed him his papers. The officer looked them over, and got the attention of his fellow. The other cross examined the papers. Every once and a while they would glance back to him, before discussing some more amongst themselves. Luke sighed. This happened every year. It just so happened that his father shared a name with a famous Jedi Knight from before the Empire. One would think that in a galaxy with an almost uncountable population, repeating names would be common. But when your name is the same as an enemy of the state, I suppose it makes things different. After more cross examination, the officers decided that Luke was clearable.

"You're clear." The first officer spoke, handing Luke back his papers, "However, we recommend that you visit the Ministry of Registration and have your last name changed to that of your legal guardians."

"Yes, sir." Luke said begrudgingly.

The second officer noted the boy's disappointment, "I'm sorry." He said, "But can we hear a little more pep in that?"

Luke stood up straight, and put on his best smile, and repeated himself, "Yes, sir!"

"That's better." The officer said, "Now, move along."

Luke nodded and rushed in after his aunt and uncle, who were waiting for him in the lobby.

"What took you so long?" Owen asked.

"The usual." Luke answered.

"Damn it, Luke. How many times have I told you that we have to get your name changed?" Owen asked, angered by the constant pest of Imperial suspicion, and the boys refusal to conform to him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Luke said, stubborn against his uncle's attempts at intimidation and persuasion, "But I've told you a million times, that I'm not changing it. If I change it how is my dad ever supposed to find me?"

Owen stepped forward, as if he was going to apply some discipline, until Beru stepped in and stopped him.

"Now, stop it. The both of you." She said, "You're making a scene, and there are officers standing all around here. Do you really want to get us in trouble?"

Owen grunted, and stormed off. Likely to go chat with a few of the townsfolk who came closest to being something relative to a friend. Luke turned away, refusing to look at either of them. Beru sighed.

"Luke," she said, "You've got to realize that he's not coming back."

"What do you know." Luke said, hushed under his breath.

"Luke," Beru began, putting her hand on the teen's shoulder.

"No." Luke said, jerking away from his surrogate mother, "Neither of you know. All either of you want to do is keep me tied up on that stupid farm!"

"Luke, it's for your own good!" Beru pleaded

"I don't care! Maybe I want to be able decide what's for my good on my own. Has that ever occurred to you?" Luke pressured her.

"Luke, just listen to me." She begged him.

"Well, Aunt Beru, has it? Has it ever occurred to you, has it ever occurred to either of you?" Luke continued his interrogation.

Beru was silent for a while. "Yes, Luke." She said, quiet, tears creeping into her eyes, "It has occurred to me. It's occurred to me so many times that it hurts."

Luke's anger faded.

"And it hurts me that you think I wouldn't, Luke." She continued, "It really does hurt me. It hurts me in my heart."

Luke stared at her as she began to cry. He looked down, and rushed to hug her, which she generously accepted.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blow up like that." He muttered to himself.

"It's okay, Luke. I don't blame you." She said, "You deserve to be able to be your own person. It's just your Uncle, he doesn't understand."

Then the speaker crackled to life.

'Attention!" the stern and metallic voice boomed, "Attention please! We will now begin seating all persons in the 13-17 age group. All persons of the 14-16 age group report to the screen chamber immediately."

The speaker began to play the Imperial Victory March.

"Well, that's me." Luke said, pulling away, albeit unhappily, from the hug.

"I know. Be careful." Beru said.

Luke began to make his way to the stairs leading to three big doors, when Aunt Beru stopped him.

"And, Luke." She added, "If you do decide to do something…just know that I'll be behind you."

Luke nodded and made his way to the theater with the rest of the children his age.

The theater was a dark place, just as dull as the rest of the building. It had a very eerie feel to it though. There were no lights save for the few dim red lanterns lining the sides of the massive chamber. The room was truly huge, with enough rows of seats to fit in the entire town. Rows upon rows of seats. There was a large flat screen at the front of the room, upon which the big show would be played. To both its left and its right hung two great flags bearing the symbol of the Galactic Empire. The youths, the age group of 13-17, were always seated up front, as they were the ones whose indoctrination was most important to the Empire on Tatooine. They were to be the very first batch of new young Imperials that would be baked in the oven of the massively funded Anchorhead Purity project. They were, so they were told, the greatest generation ever to be born of this world. The adults soon shuffled in after them, filling the rest of the auditorium. The younger children were taken off somewhere else, presumably to receive a more age appropriate service. The side lights dimmed into nothing, and an image began to flicker on the giant screen. The image was of the Imperial Flag standing tall, and waving valiantly in a gentle breeze. A gentle and wise voice materialized from all around.

"All stand for the anthem of our Empire." It said.

The whole theater stood. The anthem began with a loud boom of brass, and then a sweet and moving harmony of strings, and finally the voice of a single woman appeared and began to sing.

 _Mighty Savior, ruler of all!_

 _Fighting the fight for that we shall not fall!_

 _We free people will be ceaselessly drived,_

 _To keep our glorious utopia alive!_

 _Fly high the banners,_

 _Take joy and sing!_

 _Never has such great union been seen!_

Then the brass joined the strings, and worked their way up to a climax, preparing for a mighty crescendo, where they were joined by a great and powerful pipe organ, and the sole female voice joined by a choir of men, women, and children alike.

 _Oh Empire!_

 _Oh Empire!_

 _OH EMPIRE!_

 _Praise to thee!_

 _All our thoughts!_

 _All our prayers!_

 _Are to thee!_

The brass, organ, and choir faded, now left was only the light and majestic strings, a single male voice, a single female voice, and a single child voice.

First the man.

 _All our thoughts!_

Then he faded, replaced by the woman.

 _All our prayers!_

Finally the child

 _Are to thee!_

The child held his (or her) final note until the strings died out, where upon the child faded soon after, followed by the image of the waving flag.

The audience applauded, and uniformly took their seats once again. A new image appeared on the screen, now of massive crop harvests. The first voice returned.

"This is our Empire." The voice spoke.

The image now changed to a collection of young, fit, athletic humans staring boldly into the distance.

"These are our people." The voice said, "The builders. The thinkers. The hard honest workers. In the farms. In the factories. In the schools. In the labs. In the courts. In the army."

Luke dazed off, as the narrator rambled on of how wonderful the Empire was. He truly enjoyed the Empire Day celebration, but it wasn't for the high-flown speeches and feigned patriotism. He came for the scenes of battle that would play, especially the dog fights. He loved that part dearly. He gazed up, eyes wide and gleaming, a smile forming as his mouth fell just slightly open, as he watched the TIE's rush about dueling with their enemy X-Wings. Blasters raging, the trademark sound of their engines filling the theatre. It filled Luke with a joy that was almost indescribable. So had been the case ever since that day when Lieutenant Pax had shown him the hangar. He had become absolutely smitten with them from the moment he stood before it. He subscribed to a fighter enthusiast association, and received updates on all the new models. He knew each of the ones in services. The standards. The bombers. His favorite, however, were the Interceptors. Their sleek design, forward extended, pointed wings. Their speed. Their shields. Everything about the Interceptor line was superior, and for that he adored it. He would do anything to be up there, flying into battle. Or just flying in general. Though he certainly would prefer for it to be for the Empire. Most of his friends were very Rebel-leaning, but Luke had met many Stormtroopers in his time at the cantina, and they really weren't as bad as Biggs and Uncle Owen had made them out to be.

Soon however, something new came to the screen, something that grabbed the attention, respect, and fear of everyone in the room. No one knew what the scariest part about him was. The inhuman black armor? The heavy robotic breathing? His tall and imposing figure? No one knew for sure. All they knew was that Darth Vader terrified them. It seemed that the Empire knew this too, as they did everything in their power to magnify the commander's oppressive presence. He was standing at a podium, great flood lights cast upon him from above and below, as he updated the public on the progress of the 'War on Treason' as the Empire had named it.

"On every front, the Rebels flee before us!" his deep, booming voice proclaimed.

"The Empire calls upon all who would serve." He continued, "Join the fight to end the treasonous Rebellion today!"

The video cut to a massive collection of Stormtroopers, pilots, officers, and more. All in militaristically uniformed lines. All with fists raised up high, shouting the imperial salute.

"Hail Imperium!" They all shouted in one great voice, the sheer volume shaking the walls of the theatre.

The instrumental of the anthem again began to play, and the waving flag returned to the screen.

"This is our Empire." The narrator repeated, "It keeps you safe in day and at night. It provides for you. It cares for you. It love you. All it requires if your obedience. All you must do is trust your Empire, believe in your Empire, love your Empire. With that, there is nothing that can stop us. Long live humanity, long live the Empire!"

A male choir came again to the speakers reprised the anthem, followed by a fantastic outro lead by the brass and the pipe organ. The screen faded to black, and the lamps returned to life. The audience stood for applause. The commanding officer, a straight-laced woman with starched blonde hair walked in front of the group of hundreds.

"We will first begin exiting with the youth group, ages 13 to 17!" She shouted, "All persons in Youth Group will exit through those doors to the left! All persons in Youth Group, proceed through those doors!"

The group got up and shuffled through. They were always lead out through a presumably different path than the adults. Along the corridor they exited through were tables and booths for different Imperial services. The army, etcetera. The walls were plastered with all sorts of enlistment posters. The usual kind that you could see on street corners. Most of them featuring Vader, or Palpatine. They would always be accompanied by an entire army of adoring Stormtroopers.

Luke already had a destination in mind however. The Flight Academy. That was where you went to become a TIE pilot. Luke had tried to sign up, quite illegally, ever since he was 13 years old. He was so persistent with his efforts that the imperial offices in Anchorhead practically knew him by name, and the town's navy recruiter did literally. In fact he stood there now. He was Colonel Krampar, a portly man of around Uncle Owen's age. He had short black hair, and he wore a thick black mustache on his upper lip. Today, in order of the special occasion, he was wearing his full regalia. The black officer's tunic, trousers, hat, boots, and gloves. It said something, as the man hated the gloves. He claimed they made it hard to get a good grip on anything. Luke approached the booth, and Colonel Krampar brought forth an amused smile.

"Hello, Colonel Krampar." Luke greeted, standing proud.

"Hello, Skywalker. Here to try and join up again?" The officer greeted him.

"No, I'm not here to try." Luke said proudly, "As I'm sure you know, the age requirement for joining the Imperial Flight Corps is 14 years of age."

"Yes, go on." Krampar said.

"Well, Colonel Krampar, as of today, I am 14 years old." Luke said.

"Well, congratulations." Said Krampar, "I suppose you'd like to sign up then?"

"Oh, yes sir!" Luke said, practically bouncing.

Colonel Krampar walked back to a curtain behind the table, and pulled it open.

"Right this way, then." He said.

Luke bolted inside, and was meet with a wall with several curtain covered stalls.

"Choose one and report back to me when you've finished." Krampar said.

Luke walked over to the booth on the far left, and walked inside. There was a kind of podium inside. He approached it and the hologram of a TIE pilot projected from the top.

"Greetings." The projection said in a monotone voice, "I am IMPFS-001, AI for registry in the Imperial Flight Academy. Are you here to apply?"

"Yes." Luke replied.

"Good, let's get started. First, what is your full name as listed in the Imperial Census Databank?" The AI asked.

"Luke Lars Skywalker."

"Retrieving data." The machine spoke, taking a minute or two to process, and then speaking again, "Records show that your listed birth father is on the watch-list of the Imperial Security Bureau. Do you have any relation to the Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker?"

"No, while they share a name, my father was not a Jedi of any kind. He was the pilot of a spice freighter." Luke explained.

"I see." Said the AI, "Now, one last question"

"Wait!" said Luke, "That's it? Only one more question?"

"Yes, just one." the AI said, "When you gave us your name, we pulled all of your listed information from your files in the local Imperial Census Bureau, Imperial Educational Bureau, and other agencies. We have all the information we need. Except for one more."

"Alright then, what do you need to know?"

"Do you have the consent of your legal guardians to join the Imperial services?" The AI asked.

Luke looked down. He had hoped this wouldn't be a question. Aunt Beru had heavily hinted that she gave hers earlier in the lobby. Uncle Owen though…he would never allow it. Should he lie? No, the Empire always finds out if you're lying to them. Aunt Beru had consented though, right? One should be enough.

"Yes…and no." Luke said.

"Clarify?" The AI asked.

"My aunt, Beru Lars, has given her consent. My uncle, Owen Lars, though…he hasn't." Luke admitted.

"I see," The AI said. The hologram of the TIE Pilot disappeared, and was replaced by a revolving hologram of Uncle Owen, "Can you confirm that this is Owen Lars?"

Luke studied it for a moment, "Yes, that's my uncle." He replied. Luke would ask why they wanted to know, but a voice in the back of his head told him that it would probably be wisest for him not to do so.

"Thank you." The AI said, "That will be all. Please report back to your installation's commanding officer."

The hologram fuzzed and disappeared. Luke slowly walked out of the booth to go find Colonel Krampar. He found the Colonel standing behind the booth as the last of the children in the Youth Group shuffled about. He looked around to see if any of them had signed up anywhere. A few were huddled around the Stormtrooper Recruitment booth. Another few around the Navy. There were some lined up at the Junior Officer's Academy. He approached the Colonel.

"Um, sir?" Luke asked the man, hoping to gain his attention.

"Ah, Skywalker!" The man said, "Finished signing up already have we?"

"Yes, sir." Luke replied, "So, um, what's next?"

"Well, Skywalker, next you simply wait here until we receive the signal that all member of Youth Group have exited the registry corridor. Then we board transport back to the Navy Offices where we will catch a good night's rest." The officer explained.

"Oh, okay." Luke said. "How long should that be, sir?"

"Oh, only a few more minutes at the most." Krampar replied.

So, they waited. After about half an hour, a bell buzzed, and the booth attendees began to pack their things up. Luke supposed that was the said signal. He and Colonel Krampar made their way out through a back door with the rest, and walked over to one of several black transports. Theirs was labeled "Imperial Flight Academy." The doors opened and the two entered. They took their seats along the sides of the craft.

"Well, Skywalker, I hope you're ready. You've got a whole new adventure waiting ahead of you." Krampar said.

"Of course, sir." Luke replied, "I've been trying to get here for an entire now, and waiting for it even longer, but…but I have a question though."

"And what's that?" Krampar asked.

"When I was signing up, the machine asked me if my aunt and uncle had consented to my joining. I answered truthfully, that my aunt had and my uncle hadn't. Then it pulled up a hologram of my uncle and asked me if it was him. Why?" Luke asked.

Krampar furrowed his eyebrows, struggling to find an easy way to explain the answer.

"Well Luke, there were some new laws passed recently, one of which is to help people like you." Krampar said, "It's called the Recruit Liberation Act. Under the new law, it is illegal for a minor's legal guardians to prevent them from joining the Imperial Services once they reach the legal age to do so."

"So what you're saying is…" Luke began.

"Is that your uncle is going to be one of those people who just disappear." Krampar finished.

Luke wanted to react in shock, or horror, or sadness, or just be upset. But as much as he may have wished for it, he just couldn't. He couldn't show shock, or horror, or sadness, or just seem plain old upset. He supposed it might not be hard to figure out why. Owen had not always been the best and kindest parental figure. Whenever Luke had misbehaved, the man was very fond of the rod. He had watched his uncle give Aunt Beru the same treatment. Back when he had been working at the cantina, he had heard the other locals call his uncle a myriad of names. "Drunkard." "Wife-Beater." The list went on. Their close friends, The Darklighters, when Aunt Beru had come to pick him up after hanging out with his friends Biggs, had often offered Beru and her nephew asylum there should they ever need it. He supposed that is uncle would likely end up in a cell eventually.

When they reached the recruitment center Luke was shown to a bunk room in the back.

"Well, here's where you'll be sleeping for tonight." Krampar said, "Hope you like it. The transport will be arriving here first thing tomorrow morning, so I suggest getting some shut eye."

"Yes sir." Luke replied.

Colonel Krampar turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Luke sat down on the bed, eventually shifting onto his back. He had waited for this day to come for so long, and now it was here. Finally, he would escape from the horrible dust ball he had called home for the past 14 years. Finally he could free himself, and perhaps gain the life he had so long desired. Sure, it would require him to fight for the Empire for a while, but in the end it would all be worth it. He didn't know how he knew, but somehow he did. Some unknown feeling in his head, his gut, his heart, or where ever told him so. He fluffed the pillow, and curled up under the sheets. Tomorrow was going to be an awesome day.

* * *

MEANWHILE ON KUAT…

The frame of the Executor stood empty in the bay of its construction. Or at least, it was almost empty. There were two still remaining there, unknown to anyone but them. A man and a boy. A master and an apprentice. Darth Vader and Galen Marek, or as he was now known, Starkiller. For thirteen years the Dark Lord had trained him in the ways of the Sith, keeping every last piece of evidence hidden from the prying eyes of his master, Darth Sidious, Emperor of the Galactic Empire…for now. Virtually no one knew of the boy, well now practically a man, save for himself, the training robot, PROXY, the pilot of the apprentice's ship the Rogue Shadow, and most recently, the 501st Legion. The sole reason that they were involved was that, for one, Vader had figured out that their loyalties lay much greater with himself than the Emperor, second of all, they were a necessary part of his coup. Starkiller had actually grown to earn their respect over the course of the past five years, exactly as Vader had hoped. After all, once Vader sat on the throne, it would be up to Starkiller to take over his duties as the commanding officer of the Imperial Armed Forces. Right now, however, there were greater concerns. Most particularly, the immense shockwave in the force that had just come out of nowhere, and practically knocked him and his apprentice off of their feet, and onto the floor.

"Master," Starkiller asked, "What was that?"

"The Force, my apprentice." Vader answered, "Something, and something big, has just happened."

"I'm confused, Master. I know that it was the force, but I cannot tell of what side it was." Starkiller asked, trying to get his point across.

"It was of the Light Side." Vader answered.

"So a Jedi then?" Starkiller asked eagerly. He so enjoyed his little hunts after all. Perhaps clinging to the hope that the results of them would someday bring his master to admit some kind, any kind, of pride.

"No." Vader said.

"Oh," said Starkiller, "Then what then?"

"While the wave was of the Light, it was feral. Untamed. Almost as if it were entirely unaware of its own allegiance, and perhaps even its own existence." Vader replied.

"That doesn't make much sense, Master." Starkiller said.

"It is a mystery, indeed." Said Vader, "But I sense that it is merely of coincidence. It shall not repeat itself. Besides, the origin and intent of this is not our greatest worry."

"The Emperor," Starkiller said, catching on to Vader's thoughts, "he surely will have felt it as well."

"Precisely, my apprentice." Vader said.

An alert went off on Vader's holocom.

"Go to your quarters and meditate. I shall be back tomorrow." The Dark Lord instructed his apprentice.

"Yes Master." Starkiller said, bowing before marching off to his room.

Vader opened the transmissions device, and the hologram of one of his young officers, Lieutenant Piett, sprung to life.

"Lord Vader." The officer greeted.

"Lieutenant." Vader said, relieving him, "What news do you bring me?"

"The Emperor has contacted us. He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible." Piett said.

It was just as he had predicted. "I shall be there soon, have a transmission up and ready when I get there." Vader instructed.

"Yes, sir. It shall be done sir." Lieutenant Piett said, saluting his superior.

"Good." Vader said, as he shut off the transmitter.

He made his way out of the iron structure, and back to his shuttle. He hardly even needed to have the conversation with his master. He already knew what it would be about. Palpatine had felt the shift in the force, and now he wanted Vader to hunt down and eliminate the source of the disruption. Standard procedure really. Though any efforts to do so here would be futile. The shockwave, while powerful, had been to short lived and to unruly for any investigation to be effectively conducted. Something told him that his master knew this as well. Either way, he would demand a result. The solution would be simple, just find some meaningless force sensitive nobody, and execute them. It wouldn't really eliminate the problem, but it would please both of them.

Though this particular ripple had installed in Vader an odd feeling. An uneasiness in the depths of his mind. Almost a kind of paranoia. Something big was coming. It wouldn't be a Jedi, and it wouldn't be a Sith, but it would be big. Who or whatever it was that had caused this was likely not even aware of their abilities. But perhaps, for the sake of the Empire, for the sake of his own plans, and for the sake of this person, it would be best that it remained that way.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** *WALKS OUT OF BATHROOM IN ROBE* YOU'RE STILL HERE? THE CHAPTER'S OVER. GO WRITE A REVIEW. GO. (CHICKA-CHICKA)


	2. Chapter 2: Having A Bad Time

**DISCLAIMER: STAR WARS, THE CHARACTERS OF, AND ALL OTHER RELATED SUBJECTS AND MEDIA ARE THE PROPERTY OF LUCAS ARTS AND THE WALT DISNEY CORPORATION. THE ONLY THING I OWN IS THE SCENARIO. PLEASE DON'T SUE ME. THANK YOU.**

 **WARNING:** THIS CHAPTER IS GOING TO BE GETTING LITTLE…NO THAT WOULD BE A LIE, ITS GOING TO BE GETTING VERY, **VERY** KILLY. ALLOT OF PEOPLE ARE ABOUT TO DIE. AND IT'S NOT GOING TO BE PRETTY DEATH EITHER. IT'S GOING TO BE FAIRLY REALISTIC, GRITTY DEATH. HOWEVER, PERHAPS WHEN YOU CAME TO THIS FIC, YOU NOTISED THIS LITTLE "T" DOWN IN THE DESCRIPTION. THIS MEANS THAT IF YOUR ARE UNDER 13 (OR 14, I DON'T KNOW) YEARS OF AGE, YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE READING THIS. LIKELY FOR GOOD REASON. NOW AS FOR THE REST OF YOU, I TRUST THAT YOU'VE PROBABL HEARD A GOOD DEAL OF LANGUAGE BEFORE, AND HAVE SCENE AT LEAST ONE RATED 'R' MOVIE, SO I BELIEVE A "T" AUDIENCE CAN PROBABLY HANDLE THIS. AFTER ALL, IT'S NOT LIKE MUCH TIME IS SPENT ON THE DETAILS.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** ANYWHO, I'M REALLY GLAD THAT THE FIRST CHAPTER GOT SO MUCH ATTENTION. I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO GET THIS NEXT CHAPTER UP, BUT GOOD WRITING TAKES TIME, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE WRITING ACITON. ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER. TOODLE-LOO.

* * *

Chapter 2: Having A Bad Time

Luke sat on a metal bench in the Imperial Shuttle's passenger hold. It appeared that it had once been used for hauling cargo, but since then, had been transformed into a kind of rudimentary passenger-carrying craft. The room was long and barren, with the only features being the single locked door that Luke supposed lead to the cockpit, two long metal benches set opposite along the walls, and the large walkway/door/hatch at the back through which he had boarded the shuttle. He had been the only recruit from Anchorhead on this round, so he had the hold all to himself.

An alarm began to ring loud, and the hatch began to close, scrapping along and smothering all light from the room as it did so. At last the door was closed, and all was dark. Luke couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. Then, a deafening roar, like a great explosion. The shuttle began to shake ferociously. Luke was jolted from his seat as the craft lifted off of the ground. The shaking continued, becoming rougher and rougher as the shuttle ascended out of the atmosphere. Luke scrambled from the floor, and clung to the bench for dear life. Finally the shaking stopped, and the shuttle's speed slowed to a crawl. The sudden slow threw him again, leaving him sprawled out in the middle of the room. A single red light switched on from the center of the ceiling. Luke, breathing heavily, staggered to his feet, and made his way back to his seat on the bench. Though now, he maintained a vice like grip on the edge of the thing.

A voice came on over the overhead.

"Greetings, recruits, and welcome to the beginning of your new life." It spoke.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Lovely." He said, "Another pre-recorded message."

The message continued to go on, but Luke didn't pay it any attention. He had heard so much prerecorded bantha sith over the past day that he really didn't care what it had to say. Heck, it could tell him that the Emperor himself would be present at just where ever it was he was heading, and he still wouldn't care.

The overhead crackled and the recording was cut to a stop. Replaced by a new voice.

"Attention." It spoke, "This is your pilot speaking."

Luke jumped up from his seat, and walked a little in the direction of the cockpit door.

"We're going to be making the jump to Hyper-Space in about," there was a pause and some muffled talking that Luke couldn't make out, "In about ten seconds, so find a secure object to grab onto, and hold on tight."

Luke ran up to the door and began to bang on it with his fists clenched.

"HEY! THERE'S NOTHING TO HOLD ONTO BACK HERE!" he yelled as he continued to pound on the door.

"YOU'VE GOT TO LISTEN TO ME! THERES NOTHING TO HOLD ONTO!" he cried out as loud as he could and the ship came to a stop.

He put down his fists, and breathed a sigh of relief. They must have heard him, after all. Then came the humming. It started out low, but very quickly grew to be quite loud.

"Oh you've got to be kreffing kidding me."

* * *

"Alright, Lenny, let's get ready for light speed." The pilot said to his copilot.

"Sure thing, George." The copilot said as he began to flip a series of switches on the shuttle's control board.

George flipped a switch and pulled down a microphone.

"Attention." He said, "This is the pilot speaking. We're going to make the jump to Hyper-Space in about," George turned away from the microphone, "Hey, Lenny?" he asked.

"Yeah, George?"

"How long until we make light speed?"

"Oh, I'd give it about ten seconds."

George nodded, and turned back to the microphone, "In about ten seconds, so find a secure object to grab onto, and hold on tight."

George flipped the switch he had previously hit and released the microphone, which shot back upwards to its place on the ceiling.

"George don't you think you should give him some kind of countdown, or anything else? Like a five second warning?" Lenny asked.

"Nah, you go to be at least 14 to be here in the first place. I'm pretty sure the kid is old enough to count. Besides, ten seconds is already up." George replied, buckling up his light speed belt, "Alright, Len. Let's make the jump."

"Making the jump." Lenny replied, buckling up his own belt, and pulling a big red lever.

The all too familiar white lines began to appear before the ship, and suddenly, it picked up unimaginable speed as it rocketed into Hyper Space.

Lenny perked his head up a little. He heard a strange noise coming from behind him. Kind of like a faint kind of screaming.

"Hey, George?" Lenny asked, confused.

"Yeah, Lenny?" George replied.

"Do you hear that noise, George?" Lenny asked further.

"Noise?" George asked, confused by his partners question, "What's it sound like?"

"It sounds kinda like if there were a very tiny person screaming real loud. Like, loud it him, but real quiet like to us." Lenny explained.

"Nah, I don't hear anything then." George said shaking his head, "It's probably just that damn over-active imagination of yours again."

The noise had stopped by now anyway.

"Yeah," Lenny said, "You're probably right."

* * *

The transport shook as it entered Nar Shadda's atmosphere, and not one of its passengers spoke a single word. Stormtroopers. About 100 of them. Though the carrier was large, it was cramped, packed, and tight. Like being in a can of sardines. For 17 year-old Stormtrooper Art Hulix, this was to be his first battle. The case was the same for many other troopers onboard. Some of the older more experienced soldiers had told him that the first transport drop was always the worst one, and he prayed to whatever it was that listened that they were right. Many soldiers clung to the wall. Some tottered around. The transport wasn't conditioned, and the cramped space made the heat even more unbearable. One of the other soldiers, about two rows ahead of him, yanked off his helmet, and vomited on the metallic floor.

There were three lights located above the drop door. A red light, a yellow light, and a green light. The red light meant that they were enroute to their destination. The yellow light meant that they had five minutes until touchdown. The green light, which was always accompanied by a boisterously loud alarm bell, meant that the drop door was opening, and that it was time to go.

There was a buzz, and the yellow light ignited. An officer in a black and red uniform climbed up on an elevated platform in the back. He was an Imperial Moral Overseer. They were, more or less, propaganda officers. Trained in the Imperial Bureau of Loyalty, they acted as representatives of the will of the Emperor, or in the case of the 501st, Darth Vader, himself. They gave the Stormtroopers their orders, directed them in battle, and shouted out the Empire without end. Currently these officers were standing up and reading out the same thing all at the same time on every one of the 501st transport shuttles.

He took out a holopad and began to read it aloud, "Stormtroopers of the 501st Legion!" He shouted, having to get his voice over all the others, the shaking of turbulence, and the roar of the engines, "At 0200 hours this morning, the Imperial TIE Fighter Production Facility on Nar Shadda was seized by the odious forces of the Rebel Alliance, led by the Jedi rat, Rahm Kota! You have been given the most honorable duty of retaking this vital organ of the Imperial body! We shall smash the rebellion! We shall smash the Jedi! Show them the might of justice, and take not even a glance backwards!"

A bell began to ring out, and there was a rocking shake as the transport touched down on the surface.

"GLORY TO THE EMPIRE!" the officer shouted.

The drop door fell open, and they were immediately met with a hail of blaster fire, and everyone in the first five or six rows had been cut to pieces in the blink of an eye. They all charged forward none the less, after all, they couldn't hit all of them. Art had just made it down the ramp, when a loud whizzing noise came in from overhead. Next thing he knew, the transport exploded in a ball of flame. Art was thrown into one of the many, many natural trenches that covered the moon's rocky, barren surface.

The soldiers that had been in there behind him came barreling out of the fire, the flames running over and consuming them. They screamed but Art couldn't hear them. Matter of fact, he couldn't hear anything. He looked about the scene before him. From every direction Stormtroopers barreled out of their transports, and from every direction they were shot down. One trooper was lumbering around looking for an arm that was presently detached from his body.

The sky was a dull kind of grey, and giant columns of thick, black smoke towered into the clouds from all around. Blaster fire hailed down like pouring rain from the countless machine gun nests that dotted the battlement like walls of the factory, which stood ahead of them now like a terrible iron fortress. In every direction, the earth was razed by the exploding shells of factory's artillery defenses. There was a ringing in his ear that he just couldn't shake.

He came to his sense, and climbed out of the trench. He ran forward, in search of a safer, more secure location. He ducked behind a pair of other troopers, who were mowed down as he ran by. He hid behind a large rock. Blood had been splattered across his helmet and torso armor. He breathed heavily. In and out. In and out. In and out. He turned to make a run, but a shell landed and went off just near the rock, forcing him back behind. In and out. In and out.

He looked out briefly, popping his head back behind cover after every split second. There was another trench, where several other troopers were hiding. That's where he was heading. In and out. In and out. He bolted. Blaster bolts tore into the dirt all around him, as well as a cannon shell or two. In and out. In and out. A line of about 5 advancing troopers behind him weren't so lucky. In and out. In and out. He at last made it to the trench, and he practically dived in.

The captain, who could be told from his orange shoulder plate, turned to him.

"What's your unit, son!?" he asked, shouting over the battle.

"308th, sir!" Art yelled.

"It's about kreffing time y'all got here!" one of the others shouted.

"Alright, eh, what's your name!?" The captain shouted.

"Hulix, sir! Art Hulix!" Art replied.

"Alright...Packard!" he shouted to one of the other troopers.

The Stormtrooper that Art presumed to be Packard turned his attention to his captain, but before he could say anything, his helmet was ripped into by a blaster bolt, and he was sent toppling to the ground.

"KREFF!" one of the others shouted, as they all ducked down low.

Another wave of bolts shredded into the ground above, and into the wall of the trench opposite them.

"Kreffing Hell…SKINS!" The captain shouted.

"Sir!?" Stormtrooper named Skins answered.

"Get on Packard's transmitter!" the captain yelled, "I want to know where those damn AT-AT's are, and I want to know now!"

"Yes Sir!" Skins shouted back, as he crawled on his belly over to Packard's corpse. He turned over the body, and removed the clunky transmitting device. He began to relay the message.

Another shell came down, only about 3 yards away, nearly burying them in dirt.

"Damn it! Alright, men!" The captain shouted, "If we stay here any longer, we're gonna die! Now, there's another trench up about 50 yards from here! If we make it there, we should at least be safe from these kreffing plasma hoses! Am I clear!?"

"Yes sir!" the rest of the unit shouted.

They leapt out of their hiding hole and charged forward. The captain was the first to go down. His orange shoulder plate made him stick out like a sore thumb. Skins, and an unknown went down next. Art just kept on running. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. A shell exploded. In and out. In and out. In and out. A blaster bold grazed his arm. In and out. In and out. He made it to the trench. He hid behind a pile of rock that stuck up above it. A few other units had made it this far but not many.

The sound of cheering came from behind him. Art whipped his head backwards. There in the distance, walked forward a wall of AT-AT's. At last, there was some hope for the offensive. The AT-AT guns fired off a few rounds. One of their shells landed on a battery atop the wall just above Art's position. Crumbles of rock, iron, and dust rained down. The body of what used to be a rebel soldier landed next to him with a loud thump. Art pulled away from it. Another shell whizzed inbound. This time it hit the base of a near-by battlement tower, which cam crumbling down. A great cloud of dust, dirt, and debris exploded outward from it, engulfing Art and anyone else near it. This was his chance.

Art leaped out from hiding, and advanced on the opening. He fumbled his rifle into a firing position. Soon the shadows of a rebel soldier appeared, and he opened fire on it. The shadow jerked back, and landed hard on the ground. Soon there was another, and another, and another. Art opened fire on all, along with his fellow Stormtroopers. There had been one he hadn't seen though, and the soldier hit him hard on the side of the face with the butt of his rifle. Art, fell to the ground. He rolled over just in time to block another smash from the thing. The two wrestled about intensely for what felt to Art like an eternity. Eventually however, the rebel was able to knock the rifle out of his hands. The rebel pulled up and prepared to shoot. This was it. This was the end, he was sure of it. He shut his eyes hard in anticipation. But the killing shot never came. Rather there was an unearthly buzz, and a shriek. His eyes shot open. A red beam of light protruded from the enemy's chest. It pulled out, and the soldier collapsed. There stood behind him a young man. Only a few years Art's senior. He had close cut black hair, and he wore a rugged black attire. Not armor, but more than just clothes. He stuck a hand out to help him up. Art took hold of it, and was practically ripped from the ground.

"Grab your rifle, soldier!' The man shouted.

Art did exactly that. The man used his blade to deflect several blasts back to their shooters. If Art knew his officers, this was commander Starkiller. The second-hand-man of Lord Vader himself. The de facto field commander of the 501st. Art had only ever seen him when he accompanied Vader to address the legion.

"What's your name, boy!?" he asked.

"Hulix, sir! Art Hulix! I'm with the 308th!" Art replied.

"Never mind, that!" Starkiller shouted, "I need a replacement man, you're being drafted into Black Squadron!"

Holy hell. Black Squadron. Art could hardly think with everything that was going on.

"Well, are you just going to stand there!?" Starkiller shouted, "Let's move!"

Art came back to himself.

"Yes sir!" he shouted back.

"Good, now fall in!" Starkiller ordered.

Art ran up ahead of him, joining the others troops. Starkiller joined them and they entered the factory.

They moved down through the halls, chopping through any futile resistance in their way. They reached a service elevator at the end of the fourth hallway. They walked into it, and Starkiller used the force to pull the lever to take them to the bottom floor.

"Wait." Art interjected, "What about the rest of the facility?"

"That's not our job." Explained one of the others, "Our job is taking care of the Jedi."

"A Jedi…" Art mumbled swallowing hard.

This was not going to be good.

* * *

The 501st poured into the factory through crumbled walls and fallen towers. Several of the AT-AT's had been knocked out by Rebel artillery, so the remainder focused their fire there.

Alarms blared, red lights flashing, as Stormtroopers moved through the halls of the factory and its battlements. Rebels hid behind doorways and boxes, popping up to fire their weapons at their incurring enemy. In the nests and bunkers, Rebel soldiers still sprayed their deadly rain down upon the seemingly endless waves of Imperial soldiers.

One, a pill box on the Eastern Wall, held off a sizeable force. Spraying in waves. Left to right. Right to left. Left to right. Move up a row. Left to right. Right to left. Left to right. Move down a row. So on and so on. In the hall behind it, the defenses crumbled. At last the door became an open target, and a Flame-Trooper, accompanied by two guards, rushed to the side of the door. He counted to three, and jumped into the clearing, pulling the trigger. The bunker filled with flames, and the fire poured out as the flammable plasma ignited under the heat. As the Rebel soldiers through themselves out the slit like window, in a last ditch effort to escape the inferno, several Stormtroopers rose form their cover and began to shoot. Their Captain jumped up and held his hand up.

"Hold your fire!" he shouted, "Let 'em burn! Don't waste your ammo!"

On the factory floor, war waged hot between the two forces. Stormtroopers ducked behind the conveyer belts and partially assembled TIE fighters one side of the room, while the rebels had two machine gun nests, and a small artillery turret on the other. There was a firefight all along the catwalks. More often than not it was a melee, though. Soldiers on both sides fell from the high up walk was, a few smashed into the hulls of the TIEs. The Imperials were pushing forward all the time, and the Rebels could not hold the catwalks for long. The nests that kept the floor offensive pinned didn't last long either, as a thermal launcher was brought up to the cat walk, and blew the guns, and the turret, to smithereens.

Soon the day would be won.

* * *

The shuttle slowed, exiting hyper space. George brought the microphone back to his mouth,

"This is your pilot again," he said, "I'm pleased to tell you that we've exited hyperspace, and that the Imperial Flight Academy is within range. We'll be landing in a couple of minutes, so get ready to go."

"I always do love bringing these kids in on their first day." Said Lenny.

"Yes," George said, "I'm sure you do."

"Really, George." Lenny said, "It's always nice to see them all excited to join the army, and learn how to fly."

Lenny continued to babble on about it, George just sighed and pretended to be listening.

Soon enough came the time to land, and the ship turned gracefully into position, landing with care and precision. Steam shot out as the landing pads extended down from the hull, and made contact with the iron landing platform.

Other ships were landing as well, doors open, recruits from all over walked down the ramps and into the grand doorway that had a big banner reading "Welcome Future Pilots!" written on it. Of course, most of those ships were allot nicer than the ride that the Tatooinian offices could afford, and their enlisters got much better rides. An officer waited by the shuttle's entrance. There was one assigned to each planet. The one assigned to Tatooine was a Corporal Dix.

As the shuttle's drop door slowly opened with a steaming hiss, Dix found himself shocked to the sight before him. There, on the middle of the floor, lay an unconscious boy. Dix walked up and shook him a little. The boy didn't respond. There was a large bruise on his forehead, and he could see another one hidden under the boy's hair on the back of his head, and running down his neck. Dix growled, ad marched up to the cockpit door, banging upon it hard with his fist.

"Open up!" he yelled, "Open up, you…you imbeciles!"

The door opened, and the two came out. George first, angered by the insult, and Lenny second.

"Who're you calling imbecile, bud!?" He asked, pointing stiff finger up at the officer.

"You, that's who!" he replied, "How do you explain this!?" he demanded, pointing in the collapsed Luke's direction.

George paled, staring at the boy. Lenny looked around the hold before turning his attention back to George.

"Hey George." He said.

"Yeah?" George replied.

"When we went into hyperspace," said Lenny, "I don't think he had anything to hold onto, George."

George turned his head to his friend, eyes lidded with sarcasm, "No shit, Len."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** WELL, NOW THAT **THAT** IS OVER WITH…WHY DON'T WE ALL TAKE A FIVE MINUTE BREAK? YEAH, THAT SOUNDS GOOD. SMOKE IF YOU GOT 'EM.


	3. Chapter 3: Rahm Kota is a Total Dick

**DISCLAIMER: STAR WARS, THE CHARACTERS OF, AND ALL OTHER RELATED SUBJECTS AND MEDIA ARE THE PROPERTY OF LUCAS ARTS AND THE WALT DISNEY CORPORATION. THE ONLY THING I OWN IS THE SCENARIO. PLEASE DON'T SUE ME. THANK YOU.**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I CANNOT APOLOGIZE FOR HOW BEHIND THIS WAS. IT WAS SCHEDULED TO RELEASE LAST TUESDAY, BUT THINGS GOT IN THE WAY. MOSTLY BECAUSE THE LINES AT A REPUBLICAN PRIMARY IN TEXAS ARE LONGER THAN THE LINES AT DISNEY WORLD. ALSO, CAN WE JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT THE FAFSA? IT'S HARD TO IMAGINE THAT THERE IS A GOVERNMENT AGENCY RUN WITH EVEN LESS CONVIENIENCE THAN THE DMV, BUT SOMEHOW THE FAFSA MANAGED TO DO IT. ANYWAY, ENOUGH OF THAT. HERE' S CHAPTER THREE, I HOPE YOU ENJOY.

* * *

Chapter 3: Rahm Kota is a Total Dick

Luke sat at a table in the Mess Hall. The room was like everything else in the academy. Steel, and lit with bright white light. He wore the same standard Imperial Trainee uniform as all the others here. A tight, grey, zip-up, body suit that bore the Imperial symbol on the right breast, with a thin, tight black belt, and a pair of equally tight black boots that nearly reached the knee.

Currently, Luke sat alone. All the others already had their friends, or at least people from the same planet with whom they could sit, talk, laugh and jest. But Luke had none of that. No one else had come with him. It seemed odd to him, the idea that a whole entire planet could only offer up a single recruit while others managed so many. That's not to say he was the only Tatooinian to join the Imperial Flight Academy. His friend Biggs had left when he was of age, 3 years ago. He probably wasn't there anymore. Biggs had always been a sticker against The Empire. The contempt that he had felt had greatly increased when The Empire's interest in their small farming town had done the same. If Luke knew Biggs, which he very well did, Biggs had abandoned ship as soon as he got passed basic training, and joined the Rebellion at the first chance he got. That's probably what had happened.

Another boy came and sat down across from him. He was tall, with dark brown hair, and a kind expression. He looked like he was from somewhere in the Mid Rim. You could tell where someone was form by the look of them. People from the Core Worlds were one of two things, perfect, seen mostly in youth and a look they likely achieved unnaturally, or horribly fat, most often in their middle age onward. It was to be expected from them. The Core Worlds were the richest in the galaxy. With such massive reserves of resources, including their location, at their disposal, they had become the economic and political center of the galaxy. People from the Outer Rim were characteristically small and scrawny. Despite their propensity for hard work, muscle and fat were hard to build in places where food was so rare to come by. The farther out the planet, the poorer reared its people. The Mid Rim had the best, by many concerns. Naturally achieved looks that came from the mixture of hard work and healthy diet. They weren't rich, and they weren't poor. They enjoyed the best of both worlds.

"Hey there, kid." The young man said, "You okay? You're looking kinda like someone stuck an electro-pike up your ass."

"E-excuse me?" Luke stuttered.

The young man rolled his eyes, "You look like you're upset." He explained.

"Oh, no, I'm fine. I guess." Luke said.

"You sure?" The boy asked, "Because I was just sitting over at that table, and when I looked over here, there's you moping around all by yourself."

"Really, I'm fine. I just haven't got anyone to talk to is all." Luke answered.

"Haven't you got anyone from back home to hang out with?" The boy asked.

"No. I was the only recruit from my planet on this shipment." Said Luke.

"Well, if you ain't got anyone, you could always talk to me." The young man said.

"Don't you have your own friends you should be talking with?" Luke asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Eh, kinda. There's a handful of other people who came with me from home, but I don't know any of 'em." The young man said, "I mean sure, we've talked, but I ain't really friends with any of them. Most of my friends decided to either stay at home or join the Stormtrooper Corps."

"Oh, well then, I suppose it would be nice to have someone to talk to." Luke said, a small smile making its way to his face.

"Well, great then!" The young man replied, shooting out his hand, "The name's Cade. Cade Aargon."

Luke took his hand and they shook, "I'm Luke. Luke Skywalker."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet ya', Luke. Now, first things first, I'd love to know the story behind that love mark you got on your eye." Cade said.

"Love mark?" Luke asked, confused.

"You know, a bruise, a knock, a big black spot." He explained, "Where'd you grow up, kid? On a farm?"

"Um, yes, actually." Luke replied.

Cade seemed taken by surprise.

"Oh." He said, "Well I suppose that explains allot."

"I suppose so." Luke said.

"Anyway, I got off topic. What's the story?" Cade asked again.

"Well, I mean, it's nothing much." Luke tried to explain.

"Ah, come on." Cade jostled, "It can't be that bad. Let' shear it, what happened?"

"Fine." Luke groaned, "There weren't any seat belts or grab bars on my transport here, and the passenger section looked like it was originally a cargo hold. So, when we hit light speed…"

"Ooooh." Cade hissed, "That must have sucked major tauntaun balls."

"What's a tauntaun?" Luke asked, tilting his head.

Cade just stared at him for a while.

"Exactly what planet was that farm on?" he asked.

"Tatooine." Luke answered.

"Damn." Cade said, "I could tell you were probably an Outer-Rimmer, but that is deep in there."

"Yeah, pretty sucky planet." Luke said.

"I can imagine." Cade replied, "Do you all even get the HoloNet out there?"

Luke simply shook his head.

"Damn, kid." Cade said, "I have got a hell of allot to teach you."

"Teach me?" Luke asked incredulously.

"Yep." Cade said, "After some thought, I've found that you seriously need a wing to rest under, so I decided that it's gonna be mine. After all, a small kid like you, on your own, in here? You wouldn't last a second."

"Hey!" Luke protested, "I could hold my own just fine by myself!"

"Really?" Cade asked, dipping his head, thinking, "How much you weigh?"

"About 100 pounds." Luke said, wondering the relevance of the question.

"Well, Luke, let me put something into perspective for you." Cade said, before turning around and gesturing to a larger man over at one of the other tables.

"Do you see that guy?" Cade asked.

"Yeah, what about him?" Luke asked.

"Well, I'd say he's at about 200." Cade said, "Now, do you really think you're going to be able to hold your own against that?"

Luke was quiet for a little while, and looked down at the table.

"Ah, I didn't mean to upset you, kid." Cade said.

"It's fine. You're right, I shouldn't be so self-confident." Said Luke.

The two sat quiet for a while.

"So, how about you, Cade?" Luke asked, "Where're you from?"

"Naboo." Said Cade, "My folks were Merchants, mostly selling space parts, that kind of thing."

Cade starred off, lost in thought, his expression saddening a bit.

"Or at least they were." He continued, "There was a Rebel attack in our area of the city when I was about 10 years old. They had set off several bombs, and our shop was in the area of the blast radius."

Luke got up and moved around to sit next to him.

"The funny part was that they weren't even supposed to be going into work that day. It was a holiday. But, Dad wanted to make sure everything was right and in order, so the two of them went into town to make sure. I waited for hours, but they never came back."

He looked down at Luke who was giving him the most sympathetic look he could muster.

"Ah, I'm sorry kid. I probably made this super awkward. Just met you and here I am spilling my whole life's story onto you out of nowhere." Cade said, chuckling ever so lightly towards the end.

"No. No, no, no. It's just fine." Luke said, "Besides I…kinda get how you feel."

"Really?" Cade said.

"Yeah. I never knew either of my parents. My father was a navigator on a spice freighter, he was killed before I was born though. The ship got shot down sometime during the near end of the Clone Wars. From what little I've been told, my mother died in child birth."

Cade nodded, "Yeah, I guess you do don't you." He said, chuckling a little.

Luke joined him in it. "Yeah, I guess so." he said.

"You know what, Luke?" Cade asked, "I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, we were supposed to meet today."

"What d'you mean?" Luke asked.

"You know fate, destiny, that kind of thing." Cade explained, resting a hand on the smaller's shoulder, "Just think about it, you and me, two orphans against the galaxy. Between the two of us, I think we could make it out pretty swell on the other side. So what do ya' say? Partners?"

Luke smiled. He really liked the idea.

"Yeah," said Luke, "Partners."

The moment didn't last however. The doors at the back of the mess hall opened, and a group of officers came walked into the room in a solid formation. The whole room hushed as they made their way to a raised platform. They stood there in a straight line, one of them stood in front of the rest. He was older than they, heavier as well. His uniform resembled the usual Imperial Officer's uniform, having all the same articles. His, however, was much nicer. It was black, but with grey embroidering on the cuffs of the sleeves, along the ends of the breasts, and the collar. He wore decorative tasseled pads on both shoulders, the same shade as the embroidery, and stood as a symbol of his rank. Upon his breast was a litany of medals. He himself was quite like many officers Luke had encountered, however. Quite like Colonel Krampar, actually. Older, though. The mustache was a little thinner, and grey rather than black, just as was his hair.

The man looked over the crowd of recruits, analyzing each individual, and yet only the group as a whole, with a calculating eye.

"I," the commander said, "am Admiral Forester."

He paused, and continued to look over the crowd.

"I am the commanding officer of this facility." He said, "Though we will not be seeing each other often, you are to always think of me as the highest seat of authority in your entire life from this point onward. I will expect nothing but the very best from each and every one of you. This is the Imperial Flight Academy. You are the best. You are here only because your flight test scores were the best of the best from your world. You are the best. Therefore, the best will be expected of you."

There was again silence. Admiral Forester turned to one of the officers behind him.

"This is Major Zander." He said, "He has here the list of squadrons. You will be grouped according to your simulation scores."

He turned to the lower officer, "You may begin now major."

Major Zander stepped forward, and pulled out a holopad.

"Attention, the following recruits will report immediately to this platform when their names are called!" he shouted.

As he began to list names, Admiral Forester walked back down the aisle through which he had entered, most of the other officers following close behind. He walked through the door, the grey steel door snapping shut behind him.

* * *

The lowest level of the Nar Shadda TIE Production Facility were eerily quiet. The shocks of artillery shells rumbled from above like thunder, and each explosion shook dust from the walls and ceiling. A faint noise echoed along the corridor, the fast rattle of sprinting boot and iron armor.

Starkiller and his unit ran down the halls, weapons ready, all senses alert. So far they had been met with no resistance, just empty iron and concrete corridors. It was always likely, however, that this would not remain the case.

Eventually they reached an open doorway. Starkiller threw up a hand, signaling his men to halt. He crept out onto a concrete balcony, and observed the sight before him. He over looked a large, empty cargo bay. Its walls were not made from iron or concrete, but rather the dark rock that comprised the planet's surface. The floor was made of a kind of granite. There was a giant open space, presumably where ships would have once entered, that opened into a deep ravine. Here the sounds of the battle were far clearer. There stood by the edge of that cliff, a man. He wore a hooded brown cloak, and was utterly silent. While he gave off the typical light side waves of a Jedi, they were accompanied with anger. Together they made an almost offensive radiance.

' _Oh force,'_ Starkiller thought, _'this guy's going to be a total dick.'_

He crept back into the hallway behind him, where his troops hid up against the wall.

"Here's the plan." Said Starkiller, "Mac, Avery, you two will sweep down stairs and to the right, secure the area, and defend it should any reinforcements arrive."

The Stormtroopers named Mac and Avery nodded and ran off to do their duty.

"Keyes, Fukes." Starkiller continued, "You'll do the same as Mac and Avery, but you'll take the left."

They nodded, and left.

"Finally, the two of you will stay here and guard this balcony. We can't afford for any rebel reinforcements to cease a high ground position. And Malik, if the Jedi should happen to get me on the ropes, take the shot."

The Stormtrooper named Malik, who stood next to the rather nervous Art, nodded, and took up a position to the right of the door. Art shrugged, and slowly tottered to the same on the left.

Starkiller walked back out onto the balcony, and drew out his lightsaber. He stopped at the edge, and stood quiet for a moment, gathering the darkness about him. Then, he jumped. He flipped a few times in the air before making his landing, one hand planting to the ground, the other in the air, grasping firmly his blade. He stood, and ignited his blade. The saber making the all too familiar snap and hiss as its angry red blade loosed from its crystal.

The Jedi turned, his expression changing from stern indignation to anger and disappointment as he laid eyes on his opponent.

"I go to all this work to draw out Vader," Kota fumed, "and I am met with a mere child!?"

"I think you shall find that I am no mere child, Jedi." Starkiller spoke.

It was true, he wasn't. Neither in maturity or in age. At 19 years old, Starkiller had legally been an adult for almost two years.

"We shall see." Kota said, as he shrugged off his brown robe, and ignited his lightsaber.

' _Yep'_ Starkiller thought, _"Total dick.'_

* * *

The sound of clashing sabers could be heard from the balcony hallway. Art fidgeted nervously, while Malik simply leaned up against a wall.

"Calm down, Private." Malik said.

Art tried, but he couldn't. He could hear the fighting, and he really wanted watch. How amazing it must be, to see these warriors in battle with one another. But, Art reminded himself, he had a job to do.

The two stood silently as the battle continued. Then, the sound of blaster fire joined the fray. Malik's radio buzzed to life.

"Rebel reinforcements have arrived on our front." Mac's voice scratched through, "There's not too many," he paused a moment and shot off a few rounds, "But there could be more on the way, and they may be heading in your direction too."

Malik tilted his head towards the small device, "Affirmative." he said.

The voice of Fukes could be heard doing the same.

No sooner had the transmission ended than the sound of Rebel reinforcements trying to break down the barrier the unit had set up and the end of the corridor begun.

Malik raised his Blaster-Rifle. It wasn't like the others. It was bigger, with a large charge box coming off the side, rather than situated in the handle, or coming off the bottom. Art did the same with his small, standard issue rifle.

White smoke poured around to corner, and with it came the reinforcements. Art and Malik opened fire.

* * *

Red and Blue clashed, each pushing hard against the other.

"How long has he trained you?" Kota taunted, "Three or four years?"

Starkiller growled, and Kota laughed.

"You truly are an amateur." Said Kota, "Surely, you cannot hope that you will defeat me?"

Starkiller used the anger spurred on by his opponent's mockery to fuel his dark power. Lightning began to dance about his fingers.

"Oh, I think you'd be surprised." Starkiller replied, letting lose a blast of sith lightning.

Kota blocked it with his saber, deflecting it back towards Starkiller, who did the same. The lightning bounced back in forth between them, its strength and intensity growing more and more powerful with every second as Starkiller fed more and more of it towards his enemy. The strain was insatiable, but he had to keep it up. With the amount of lightning currently between him and his foe, Starkiller would easily be killed the moment he let his guard down.

"Give up now, young Sith, it is futile to continue!" Kota screamed, "If your lightning does not end you, then I shall!"

"NO!" Starkiller raged, the lightning doubling in power.

* * *

By now Art and Malik had felled at least ten waves of reinforcements, and the wear of battle began to lay upon them. Then, a rumbling. Not from the artillery nearly a mile above, no, this was much closer. The smoke thickened, and the shape of a large vehicle appeared coming around the corner. Atop it was mounted a plasma cannon. It shot, and the explosion sent the two troopers flying back against the wall.

Malik looked back between the now unconscious Art, and the approaching shadow. It was a small tank. How in sith hell they had managed to fit it down here was beyond him.

He picked himself up, but nearly fell back down again, as a blast whizzed past his face. He continued towards the fallen Private, and picked him up. Throwing the younger over his shoulder, he turned to the machine.

"Hey!" he shouted, "Come and get us, Shit Heads!"

Malik sprinted through the door way and onto the balcony, He looked to his left, and then again to his right. Not 5 meters away was a cat walk. Malik braced himself, and charged forward. He leaped off of the balcony, hoping that he would make the jump. The jump, which lasted less than a second, to Malik seemed an eternity. But eventually, his feet planted on to the metal surface, which swayed back and forth under the shock. He continued running.

* * *

By this time Starkiller had found himself unable to continue fueling the stream of lightning that bounced between them. Now he simply put all of his energy into continuously reflecting his own attack back at his foe, but even that was waning. He could not keep this up.

* * *

Mac's heavy machine blaster had cut through everything that came their way. The spinning barrels spit out plasma death faster than any other gun in the Imperial Arsenal. Though he was running low on ammunition.

Another rebel ran through the door way, rifle raised. He was able to get off a single shot before Mac practically cut him in half. However, it was a good shot, only barely missing Mac's helmet. The blast of plasma shot through the window behind them.

* * *

The tank barreled forward towards the door its two targets had just escaped through. The wall crumbled as it burst through.

"Force! Stop! Stop!" the commander shouted to the driver as he saw the edge and fall that lay before them.

It was too late for that, though. The machine's momentum could not be stopped at such short notice. The railing snapped like a twig under the tank's weight, and the craft toppled over the edge.

* * *

Kota had Starkiller on the ropes.

"You see it now, don't you?" he gloated, "How foolish it was of you to believe that you could actually defeat me."

There was a loud creaking of metal, and both Jedi and Sith Apprentice turned their attentions to the source of the horrible noise. There, above, was a tank tumbling over the edge of the balcony.

As the war machine came crashing to the ground with a great explosion, Kota's concentration was pulled to it. A mistake that would prove to be fatal, for as he was distracted, he did not notice the blaster bolt rushing towards him.

The concentrated plasma struck him in the hand, and his saber dropped. The now hyper-energized lightning that had once bounced between them now had nothing to stop it, and it struck the Jedi general hard in the chest, sending him flying backwards.

Now, he dangled over the abyss, one hand firmly grasping to the edge of the floor. Starkiller walked slowly towards his defeated foe, red blade glowing. He stood towering over the general, ready to land the killing blow. But, a little gloating never hurt anyone.

"So Jedi," he said, still catching his breath, "What was that you were saying about foolishness?"

"Win or lose, you are still the fool." Said Kota, "So you'll have killed me, and returned to your master victorious. But for what? The way of the Sith is the way of treachery. They are entirely self-centered. Manipulation is all they know. How long do you think it shall be, young one, before your master finds that he no longer has use for you? What do you think he shall do then?"

Starkiller stared down at the general.

"I can't really say." He said, "I guess we'll just have to find out."

Starkiller swung his blade down true, and cut from the general the hand that clutched to life. Kota fell, screaming as he plummeted into the abyss below.

Starkiller turned to find his men gathered behind him. Mac and Avery. Keyes and Fukes. Malik and Art, who was still unconscious and laying over the other's shoulder.

"Stormtroopers," he said, "We're done here."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** SO THAT'S CHAPTER THREE EVERYBODY. ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT. AGAIN, I'D LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. THE NEXT WILL DEFINITELY BE UP SOONER. (I HOPE.) ANYWAY, BE SURE TO LEAVE A REVIEW.


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